Richie Can I just listen to Fleetwood Mac and cry? Tozier
by sinfulentities
Summary: Richie gets drunk and mentions something to Beverly that he knows he shouldn't have. but a drunk mind speaks a sober heart right?


I

_What the fuck. _

He thinks.

**What the fuck.**

His body groans.

What the fuck.

He unknowingly says aloud but thankfully no adherents of the Loser's Club pays any attention to his criticisms like they usually do because so far they know what would come out of Richie Tozier's mouth. _So long for "The Loser's Club", right Rich?_

A curse? A cry? A shriek? They've heard it all from him during the walk to Mike's house and now that they were at their destination, they feared for their comedic friend. The image of a clear blue sky minutes before keeps replaying in his brainbox. _It seems too bad to be true that this is the first morning without Eddie. _Richie wasn't a symbolic person-he was a comedian for Hell's sake. But the death of his friend made him reminisce about how much of a ball of daylight Eddie was _Like a sunflower. That I want to hold. _(even with his bratty complaints about grey water).

Plopping down on a recliner couch, he looked through his narrowed eyes at the three brunettes and one redhead. Bill looked guilty. Ben looked thrown off. Mike looked tired but nonetheless accomplished. Beverly looked uncomfortable. Richie looked the worst. His hair went in different directions from pulling at it. What a haircut that looked like. Even Pennywise would've been jealous. His eyes were puffy and red from the teardrops that stained his cheeks. He sniffled. His heart had hurt the absolute most. It felt as if he and Eddie had gotten impaled at the same time but IT just said **I'll let him live just so he can be racked with pain. **_I wish he would've just fucking killed me. _"We really did it, guys." _Is this what love feels like? _"I think I need alcohol after that." _Well it's fucking stupid. _"Richie." Beverly hesitates.

He snaps his head in annoyance to Beverly's direction, startled. "I'm sorry. What?" Richie adjusts his glasses as his face softens as an apology.

"Are you ok?" Ben asks but avoids eye contact with the angry, hurt, and sad Richie Trashmouth Tozier. _Stupid question, Ben. _"I want a fucking beer if that satisfies your question."

"Rich."

This sounds like a bad idea. But at first, Richie seemed ok to everyone when he popped open his brew bottle and let the alcohol touch his dry lips. First he couldn't stop talking.

"Bevvie. Bevvie. Bevvie. Bevvie. Bevvie. Bevvie. Bevvie. Bevvie. Bevvie." Richie says. "Don't call me that." Then he was in possession of five bottles worth of beer that went down his throat. This is when everyone started to expect...that this wouldn't be his last bottle. He couldn't cast his mind to the last point in time when he drank a bottle which was confusing for him so he just drank more. On a casual day, seeing Richie drunk would've been a hilarious delight. But him being drunk on misery and not victory was terrifying as everyone reflected on the situation. This was a night that would make him feel forever self-conscious as regards to his drunken self.

"Bill." He makes eye contact.

"Y-Yeah?" Bill smiles but then his smile soon falls. "Shut the fuck up, you liar." Bill wasn't going to admit out loud but it hurt. Being called a liar from IT when interrogated about the real reason he didn't want to play with Georgie didn't really devastate him coming from a screwy clown who didn't understand any human intentions. But hearing that coming from his friend-even if he was drunk, struck him a different way. Richie felt like he was being spinned on a chair and pushed off as his knees gave out. He fell on the hard dark wooden floor and groaned as he took in a distinct scream from Beverly over his loud heartbeat. _She's so damn dramatic. Or maybe she just cares, asshole. _He sees her blurry figure as she attempts to help him up with everyone else but he shys away from them. "I'm fine. I'm fine." He's hyperventilating at this point and his heartbeat is getting heavier. _Ok maybe you're not fine. _This was the worst case scenario. He was drunk. He was high off a blunt which no one knew where he had gotten it from. His vision was blurry and he couldn't find his glasses. You can only imagine the amount of hallucinations he saw of the _inhaler using fucker _or at least that's what he called him. Richie whines because he realized that getting drunk didn't help him at all. It just made everything worse. "Ok that's fucking enough." Beverly snatches the bottle out of his hand. He knows he messed up hence the tone she only uses with her father.

"You're going to die of alcohol poisoning." She states. "Maybe it's what I deserve." She tucks a strand of hair beihind her hair, disturbed by his answer.

"Good fucking night." Richie grimaced and closed his eyes. Only if it was that easy. There were screams. There were yells. Tears clouded his vision so bad, that he felt like he was crying the whole world away. Bill held Richie's left arm down. Ben gripped his right leg. Mike clenched his left leg. Beverly grasped onto his right arm as she constrained him to drink water. Was he going insane for not wanting to complete a humane task? Well he was a difficult piece of work. Richie kicked and punched like a toddler who wasn't getting what he wanted-just on steroids. It was Richie vs. the Loser's Club with arguments of "_I don't want the fucking water." and "But you're drunk, high, and dehydrated. We care about you so please drink it." _Not that them asking nicely made a difference anyways. It ended with them winning in the end as he consumed the water even though almost choking on half of it.


End file.
